Of Ninjas and Fangs
by Jenn the Ninja
Summary: Angel comes to NYC on a mission and finds help in the strangest place.  My attempt to make ninja turtles and vampires being in the same story a good thing.  Rated for language, potentially violence.  Crossover with the Buffyverse.  Read and review, please
1. Two Sides of the Same Coin

Author's Note: First fanfic ever, written with the new TV series' voices in mind (they are edgier than Cam Clarke and Rob Paulsen, not necessarily better!); set after the fourth movie, completely ignoring Next Mutation and with little consideration to what may happen in Angel Season 6 (which is due out in comics soon, I think). Got the idea when I came across the comic where Raph comes across vampires and thought to myself, "Gee, that's kinda lame." So I attempted to make Ninja Turtles and vampires a little… cooler. And apologies in advance, I tend to use dialogue to drive the plot.

Disclaimer: Ninja Turtles aren't mine, they belong to Peter Laird, Kevin Eastman, Mirage, 4Kids, Fred Wolf Films, New Line Cinema, the Jim Henson Muppet Factory – you get the idea. Anyone from the Buffy/Angelverse belongs to the almighty Joss Whedon. No profit, just fun.

**Chapter 1: Two Sides of the Same Coin**

_Ah. The rooftops. No better place for a guy to clear his head in this city. Just far enough above the noise so he didn't get lost in it but close enough to hear if he was needed. Which tonight he hadn't been, so far. He didn't have to stick to the shadows so much up here, either, which was a nice change of pace. Still, his muscular, relatively short frame didn't draw too much attention to itself, save the occasional glint of moonlight on the set of steel tucked in his belt._

A few blocks down the street, amongst different shadows, an unnaturally pale face scowled down at the streets of New York City, his figure framed by a white v-neck tee, black leather pants and a black duster. Even though no weapons were visible, the tall, brooding image, if one happened to catch it, was imposing. At a glance, this shadow bore little resemblance to the other not far away, but both watched the streets in constant vigilance for signs of trouble. Both had sworn to themselves to protect the innocents below, even if for different reasons. Both yearned for the freedom to walk about the city streets during the daylight hours without incident. That last one was virtually impossible. For both.

_He moved silently, headed towards home. There had been no real trouble that night. No monsters. No foot ninja. Both had been absent since the events at Winters' offices a short while ago. The monsters were gone, but he could only expect the worst from the foot – they were reassembling and planning something vicious. But it wouldn't come tonight, he could feel it. The urge had been there to interfere with some minor crimes, but he kept telling himself the cops could handle it just fine. Bad habits and all that, right? Property crimes, vice crimes – no innocents to save. But just as he reached his final stretch, he heard screaming below. Screams of fear and of horror._

"Finally, some action 'round here!" This is what he came on these trips to the surface for. Cracking his knuckles silently, he made his way down the fire escape without a sound, moving as the shadows did. Rounding a corner, he took in the scene. Five punks had cornered a middle-aged woman in an alley. The groceries spilled out of their paper bags answered the question of what she was doing out at this hour. Even worse, they were about to scuffle near his incredibly clever hiding spot for his bike. He couldn't see the punks' faces, but something was off about them. _Really_ off, and they were_ really_ freakin' out the lady. Swiftly, silently, and with acrobatic skills that any self-respecting Power Ranger would envy, he jumped into the center of the fray and threw out a spinning hook kick that caught all five of the assholes square across their jaws. With his heel. God that was fun.

Until they got right back up and he got a closer look.

He didn't know what the hell they were, but he knew the woman needed to get out of here. Launching two more clean kicks, a back fist and some nasty crosses, he cleared a path for the would-be victim. It only made him angry when she froze.

"Get the fuck outta here! Are you nuts? Fuckin' go!"

When she finally ran off, the weird punks had regained their balance.

"Great. Just fucking great. God, people are stupid!" He had given up on stealth and silence and drawn his weapons, prepping himself for what he knew would be one helluva fight. What he wouldn't give for one of his brothers right now. Or all of them. Even Leo. Or that nut Casey. Or –

_Whoomp._

Someone landed at the other end of the alley, softly, despite appearing to have jumped from the rooftops above. The ninja gave little notice to the newcomer except to make a note of his position in case he wasn't… friendly.

"You took our little piggy, you bastard." One of the punks spoke, with some trouble, due to the enormous canines protruding from his mouth. Or were those – no, no way. _Fangs?_ "Looks like we'll have to make do with you instead. But you don't look very…_tasty._"

He didn't know whether to be insulted or not. "Well, sorry to disappointcha, but I don't really like the idea of being some freak's midnight snack, so you can just go fuck yourself." Okay, so it wasn't the best smartass remark he'd come up with lately, but it was a good failsafe. And this gang of whackos had him seriously weirded out.

"You dare to call us a freak? Have you looked in the mirror lately?" The five of them giggled like schoolchildren, and he felt the familiar sting of insecurity that had plagued him since childhood. The same one he always felt when the people he saved from thugs, Purple Dragons, and foot ninja looked at him like _he_ was the one who had just tried to mug them, rape them, eat their young or kill them. Freak. Well, to be fair, this time he'd used the word first.

The newcomer at the end of the alley grew tired of watching the interchange. "If any of you had seen your reflections anytime this century, I think you'd have all staked yourselves by now. Damn, but you're ugly." That seemed to piss the punks off, so the ninja took his opportunity to flip over one of their heads and launch a clean side-kick at the back of the fanged freak's skull. Taking the cue, the newcomer followed suit, throwing techniques that were less skillful, but still effective. The ninja's blades made contact with two stomachs, but he stepped back, stunned, as they laughed at his attempts. They proceeded to speak amongst themselves, ignoring him.

"He's strong, a good fighter. He'd be a good addition."

"He's not human, you idiot. We've turned demons before, and they don't always take!"

"I think we could take a chance with this one. He's naïve."

The last one to speak received a very swift tornado kick to the temple when pride won out over common sense. "No one ignores me, assholes!" When they rounded on him, and he got a good look at their eyes, he realized that calling attention to himself may not have been the best route _this_ time.

And then the fanged punk that was about to jump him exploded into dust, falling around a wooden stake held firmly in the grip of the newcomer in the black duster.

"A stake! Are you fucking kidding me?" The ninja ran his hand over his eyes quickly, trying to erase the scene and make sense of what was happening. Duster-guy laughed darkly, realization dawning on him.

"With your weapons, you'll have to cut their heads off to kill them. And don't worry – they're not human." And he proceeded to do so to an aerial attacker leaping from the fire escape.

"Okay, killer – whatever you say." Armed with the knowledge of how to finally cause these fuckers some damage, and that he would not be murdering simple street thugs, the blades in the ninja's skilled hands began spinning, slicing, and stabbing in a very quick-paced rage, and moving on instinct to guard each other's backs, the two fighters made short work of the remainder of the – what the hell were they, anyway?

The fight over, the ninja and the newcomer glanced around, making sure no one remained hiding in the shadows. Then the newcomer, still looking down the alley, did what any polite warrior does after battle.

"Well, nice working with you. Gotta run." As he turned, a strong grip held him in place.

"I don't think so, trench coat-boy. Mind telling me what the _**fuck**_ just happened here? Who are you, who – _what_ were those punks, and why don't you seem freaked out by the way I look?"

"God, they never let you fight and run, do they?" Trench coat-boy turned and looked the turtle in eyes. Kind of. Given the height difference.

"Name's Angel. You just got yourself into a fight with a pack of vampires. That's why all your fancy fighting tricks didn't work on them. And I'm not 'freaked out' because I've _seen_ kappa demons before. But, um, not in the Big Apple. And not with… ninja weapons. Or a ninja mask. Or such extensive knowledge of curse words. Or a cell phone?" The last question was prompted by the turtle's Shell Cell ringing. The ninja quickly turned it off, looking at Angel with a confused expression.

"What the hell is a Kappa?"

"You mean you're not one?" The turtle started twirling his blades between his fingers, a smirk showing at the corner of his mouth and appearing ever darker under the red mask at his eyes.

"I would think that if I were one, I would know what in the hell it was, _Angel_." His speaking slowed in rhythm for emphasis, as if speaking to a child. "I am a mutant turtle, thank you _very_ much. Name's Raphael."

"Raphael, huh – after the archangel or the Renaissance artist?" The pale fighter let a brief, amused grin affect his stony appearance, finding irony at the berserker ninja with the name of an artist or icon.

Raph caught the sarcasm in Angel's tone straight away and aimed his sai… well, pointedly at the offender's chest. "I don't think you're in any position to make fun of _my_ name, bucko." He paused. This guy _had_ helped save his life and attitude or not, Raphael had his honor. "The artist. And for Christ's sake, just call me Raph."

Angel laughed. As blunt and caustic as it was, there was also something comfortable and refreshing about Raphael's disposition – it reminded him of himself. And Spike. True warriors. "You always this pleasant for company, Raph? I mean, cut me some slack here. I just saved your shell."

Raph's eyes narrowed in consideration as he stuck his sai back into his belt absentmindedly. "Buy me a pizza and I'll be your best friend."

"Deal."

Still a little on edge, Raphael inspected Angel closely, looking for any signs of deception that might prove the hero a liar or a lunatic. Finally deciding him to be neither, Raph looked around the alley and away from his new acquaintance. "Vampires, huh? You ain't just fuckin' around with me here?"

Angel sighed, resigned to his dramatic monologue of exposition about slayers, watchers, vampires, vampires with souls, demons, werewolves, witches, evil lawyers, mystical karaoke –

"You know what? Never mind. Fuck it and let's go." Raphael cut off the internal pity party by smacking Angel in the ribs with his spare helmet.

To be continued.


	2. A Six Pack and Some Reflection

A/N: Got the concept that vampires don't drink milk from the old Bunnicula series of kids' books about a bunny that is potentially a vampire (according to a lunatic tabby cat and a big shaggy dog).

PTB Powers that Be (Buffy/ Angel universe)

Disclaimer: TMNT: Mirage's, Eastman's and Laird's, etc.; not mine.

Angel and anything from the Buffy/Angel series: Joss Whedon's and Mutant Enemy's (grr-argh); not mine.

Bunnicula: James Howe's; not mine.

Anything else recognizable from the world of pop-culture: somebody else's; not mine.

The totally awesome Bender shirt from Hot Topic: MINE. Paid for and everything. But not with money from this story, 'cause no profit and all.

**Chapter 2: A Six Pack and Some Reflection**

"Okay. I am the tall, dark, and deadly guy with the _really_ cool hair. So how come I'm riding bitch?" Angel held on for dear life as Raph took a right turn fast enough to send even Spike reeling. And the rest of his dignity would go right along.

"Because _nobody_ rides my Shell Cycle unless I'm driving or dead. Now, shut the hell up – you're distractin' me."

Angel closed his eyes and reluctantly agreed. "Okay, but only once, and if a short guy with spiky blond hair asks about it, it never happened." He could just imagine, after the pursuit of The Immortal and the incident with the scooter, what Spike would have to say about his current position.

"Spiky blond hair. Got it. Got a name?"

"Yeah. It's, um, Spike." Angel flinched instinctively, knowing he was not sounding exceptionally intelligent at the moment.

"God, and I thought Mikey was retarded." Left to ponder who Mikey was, Angel was glad he didn't eat real food very often as the ninja popped a wheelie and laughed like a maniac when the "bitch" almost fell off.

"Whoa! Sorry, man - I almost forgot you were back there."

Upon reaching their destination, Angel took a few seconds to get his legs back, and then whacked Raphael on the back of the head. Pretty damn hard. And let a slight grin cross his features.

"Where are we, turtle-man?"

Raph checked around for bystanders and, on the off chance, Foot ninja spies. "My buddy Casey's place." Satisfied that no one had followed or was paying any attention to the odd pair, he headed to the side of the building, specifically the fire escape, and motioned for Angel to follow.

"Is this Casey of the terrapin or human variety?" Angel smirked, imagining a giant turtle living in an apartment in downtown New York. With TiVo, the Playboy Channel, and a Playstation 3. Wait – did turtles even like the Playboy Channel? He shook his head slightly to clear the image that threatened.

Raph grinned. "Human. Kind-of. More like Neanderthal, but hey, whatever." They reached Casey's window, and Raph rapped his knuckles across the glass, calling none too politely, "Yo, Case – what's a guy gotta do to get a beer around here?"

Angel took in the surroundings, noting the worn golf bag of sporting equipment that had seen better days propped in the corner of the living room, and the metal hockey mask hanging across one of the hockey sticks. Other than that, the apartment was furnished stylishly, and it was well-kept, showing the tell-tale signs of a woman's touch. So he was surprised when a tall, athletic man with jet-black hair slid the window open for his late-night callers.

"Raph, if Leo finds out I'm giving you my beer, he'll have my head. And then April would be all alone in this cruel world." Casey took a second to notice the stranger and cocked his head in question. "Who's the new damsel in distress?"

Raph shook his head. "You ain't gonna believe me when I tell you what happened tonight, man. Figured I'd wait and call the guys up, though – I don't wanna have to tell the story twice. Short version, this whack-job here saved my shell in an alley 'cross town. Casey, Angel. Angel, meet Casey Jones." Angel extended his hand to the younger man, hoping upon hope he wouldn't have to fish for an invite into the place – he, too, did not feel the urge to explain himself more than once in a night. And his…_affliction_…would certainly be noticed sooner rather than later if more damn ninjas were involved.

"Well, anybody that helps Raph out in a fight is a pal o' mine. Nice to meetcha, Angel." With that, Casey turned to head off Raph, who was making a beeline for the fridge. Tossing a glance back towards the window, he yelled, "You comin' or not, dude - hey, don't _**touch**_ my beer, Raph, ya freakin' mutant! I don't feel like meeting the business end of a katana anytime tonight!"

Well, it was close enough for an invite. Angel closed the window behind him and turned around, only to bump into a petit redhead carrying a cell phone similar to the one Raphael had shut off in the alley earlier that night. "Yeah, Donnie – he's here. And apparently, he brought a new friend?" She paused, listening intently to the other end of the conversation and eyeing Angel appraisingly. "Nope, I've never seen him before – but Raph seems to be in one piece for once, so I'm guessing he's on the level. Tell Leo to keep his shell on, okay?" Another pause, and Angel was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. "Yeah, I'll see you guys in a few. Later!" She turned off the phone, tucked her hair behind her ear, and put out her hand. "April O'Neil, a.k.a. Casey's cuter, more intelligent half. And you are…?"

"Angel." She seemed a little surprised at his brevity, but shrugged it off before running into the kitchen to break up the scuffle that had broken out over Casey's six pack of Killian's.

"Raph! The others are on their way over as we speak. Maybe just let the beer go tonight?" She put on her best big sister glare, complete with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed. The offending turtle sighed, but timed his release of the prize with Casey's full-forced yank, sending the human sprawling on the linoleum floor.

"Fine – I'd hate to see Leo's panties in a bunch." He glanced Angel's way. "Yo, man – how about that pizza? Mind if we make it four? One just doesn't cut it in this crowd." After Angel nodded (reluctantly, and wondering what he had gotten himself into), Raph ambled over to the phone and began placing the order. Taking in the scene, the vampire hunter marveled at how normal it seemed for this mutant ninja turtle to be arguing over price with a New York City pizzeria, twirling a sai between his fingers as a force of habit. Just how Lorne had seemed normal at his club, despite the green skin and red horns. The normality of Spike's grumbling over Illyria beating him at that stupid Crash Bandicoot game. At least it was easier for the humanoid demons to blend in. He could only imagine what pressure lay on Raph and his family's shoulders to stay hidden – with no demon powers to protect them, they were vulnerable to the tortures of scientific study and the threat of imprisonment behind bars for the amusement of a paying crowd. His brow furrowed in thought, Angel wondered if he should even bring these relatively normal and definitely mortal beings, whatever they were, in on the situation at hand –

"Who the shell are you?" Lost in his thoughts, Angel jumped a foot in the air at the sudden and fairly rude interruption, wheeling around to face a turtle with lighter skin than Raphael, and not so bulky a frame, but with a fire and determination set in the eyes behind his blue mask that made Angel nervous. The katana blades at the turtle's shell told Angel that this was the one he didn't want to fuck around with.

"Hold onto your ass, Leo – I'll introduce the Princess here and explain what happened tonight once everyone gets in. I ain't gonna tell it twice." Raph appeared out of nowhere, or more likely, from the kitchen, and placed himself between the apparently humorless brother and Angel. "See, Angel, Leo here thinks that anyone knowing about us means instant doom, like you seeing us is gonna make Dubya hit the red button on the H-bomb or something."

Angel raised an eyebrow, glancing between the siblings, weighing Raphael's words with special consideration.

"I'm surprised you know the difference between an H-bomb and an atomic bomb, Raph." The turtle stared at him for a second and then burst into laughter, slapping Angel on the back. Harder than necessary, but still amicably.

"You're all right, man – you know that?"

The ring of the doorbell and the wafting smell of lots of pizza gave Angel an excuse to escape the uncomfortable tension Leo exuded. After all, he was paying.

Fifteen minutes and several pizza slices later, Angel found himself surrounded by four "mutant" turtles and the humans weird enough to call them friends. The blue-masked turtle maintained a stony silence, noticeable only by close observation, thanks to the turtle in the orange mask.

"And so then, I totally told Donnie that he was completely _gay_ for not thinking Jennifer Aniston's hot! I mean, for real, dude – she's the _only_ reason to watch that stupid show! And then -"

Tuning the pop-culture sponge back out, a skill acquired from decades of Spike's tortuous poetry, Angel turned his attention the turtle in purple. Odd color choice for a ninja. He seemed nearly as serious as the one in blue, Leo – nope, never mind. An occasional bemused grin slipped across his face when one of the others did or said something stupid, and he seemed to take the loudmouth's ribbing in stride. Okay, so not stoic, but reserved. Kinda reminded him of Willow. They probably even liked the same type of girls. He smirked, imagining the red-headed Wicca and the turtle in purple fighting it out for a girl. Ninja versus Witch in a battle to the death for the love of –

"So, Raphael, _**when**_ were you planning on introducing us to your new friend here? And explaining how you let yourself get discovered _**again**_?" The blue-masked terrapin had apparently had enough of the orange one's incessant rambling, and his tone of voice and defensive posture put an instant chill in the air.

"Fine, Mama Leo – guess now's as good a time as any. Mikey – don't touch my pizza." Guardedly placing his slice on a plate, Raphael launched into a fast-paced narrative of the evening's battle, whacking Casey every so often while demonstrating something really awesome he or Angel did and making quite the face at the idea that he was mistaken for a kappa demon, whatever that was. "So, that's it, guys – this is Angel. Angel, the mutant in orange is Michaelangelo –"

"–Mikey, dude, totally Mikey –"

"– the technogeek in purple is Donatello, or Donnie, or Don, or raises your flag. And the hardass in blue is Leonardo, but you can just call him Teacher's Pet –"

"Leo will be just fine, Angel – "

"Or Splinter, Jr. – "

"And I suppose anyone who helps my _little_ brother here save his shell is at the very least _decent_, even if your story is a little… iffy."

"_**Whatever**_, Leo – and you already met April and Casey."

Angel felt slightly dizzy at the speed of the story-telling and the chaos of the "formal" introductions, so he just put up his hand in a brief, broody greeting. He hoped to get away with as few questions as possible, but knew from experience this small request would most likely be met and laughed at by whatever branch of the PTBs were listening in this time. He ran his hand through his hair and sat perched on the edge of the couch, clasping his hands between his knees and taking in the mildly confused look crossing Michaelangelo's face, and the disturbingly inquisitive expression on Donatello's.

Then silence hung in the air like smoke from those blasted ninja smoke pellets, and Angel felt a glimmer of hope –

"Dude, vampires? _**Vampires?**_ Like in Van Helsing? And Dracula? Oooh, ooh, and Underworld and Blade and Bunnicula –"

"You have got to be kidding me. Science just doesn't have any evidence that vampires are more than myth, at best! Most incidents of vampirism can be attributed to extreme psychoses or medieval superstition –"

"And the vampire babes in those movies are _**soooooo**_ hot, like, spankably hot! Do they have reflections? Don't you have to invite them in or something? I would totally invite Parker Posey in, she's a _**babe! **_Oh! Do you really kill them with stakes and fire and sunlight and holy water and crosses and beheading? And can they drink milk, 'cause I read somewhere that they can't drink milk –"

"And some people have proven allergic to sunlight, so that helps take the proverbial wind out of the proverbial sails of that argument, and I'm _**sure**_ Raphael was exaggerating when he said the bodies _immediately_ turned to dust. It was probably just a trick of the light, or he'd been drinking again – I'm certain that inebriation accounts for a lot of the eyewitness accounts of vampiric activity, wouldn't you agree, April –"

_Chtak._

The two concurrent lines of questioning were cut neatly down the middle as a sai whisked through the air and embedded itself in April's kitchen wall.

"Holy _fuck_ but you two don't shut up sometimes!" Raph stalked over to the wall to retrieve his weapon and turned to face a slightly perturbed April O'Neil. "Don't worry, April – I remember where the spackle is from last time. And _shit_, guys – you're givin' _me _a headache and I'm used t'ya." Angst personified waved his pointy weapon in Angel's general direction. "He's only used to demons and shit. _Not_ Mikey."

Angel let a faint smile tweak the corner of his mouth – maybe it was because of the way demons metabolized sugar and caffeine, or something – but Mikey was like a Chaos demon on crack. Leaving that mental image in the back of his brain, Angel turned to Don, who was proving to be more like Fred than Willow. Science over magick.

"Don, you ask a lot of technical questions – especially for a giant turtle. And I've heard the word 'mutant' tossed around tonight like a football, but when I think mutant, I think metal claws and magnetic people. I think I've been pretty cool about the whole thing, too – not assuming you guys are evil monsters or anything along those lines. Plus, I paid for your pizza. So, before I get caught up in the Dr. Jekyll vs. Bill Nye debate, what exactly are you guys?"

"Fair's fair, I suppose." Don looked up at the ceiling, contemplating the fastest way to get through the story of their lives and on to the answers to his questions. "We were born as normal, pet turtles, but a traffic incident and a clumsy kid intervened…"

Five minutes later, Angel decided he was definitely dizzy and chose to stay seated on the couch. Just when he thought he couldn't be surprised anymore. Don cocked an eye ridge in the vampire hunter's direction, though Angel couldn't tell if the turtle was amused or concerned.

"It's a lot for most people to handle. April passed out the first time she met us –"

"Yeah, like ten times, Donnie –"

"And Casey tried to pummel Raph and then run him over with his motorcycle. So we'd understand if you find it all a little too much." Don, having stood during his storytelling session, leaned on his _bo,_ waiting for a response.

Angel shook his head, keeping his gaze to the floor. "It's no stranger than what I'm about to ask you to believe and what you've already heard from your brother, so…" He trailed off, then furrowed his brow, confused at something that stuck out at him from the jumble of questions Donnie and Mikey had thrown at him just a few minutes earlier.

"Where the hell did you hear that vampires can't drink milk? That's just… that is the _weirdest_ vampire association I think I've ever heard. And I've heard some weird ones. Like vampires can't drive Ford trucks or drink tequila."

"Dude – didn't you _ever_ read the Bunnicula books? About the vampire bunny and his undead vegetable minions? And the only one who stands between us and certain doom at the non-hands of zombie onions is - dum, dum, dum! Chester, the lone tabby cat of justice!" Mikey gestured wildly in the air, culminating in hopping around in his best imitation of a vampire bunny.

Angel cocked his head and raised one eyebrow. "Raph?"

"Gotcha, trench-coat boy." _Thwack._

"Thanks. So, to answer your earlier questions, guys, vampires are real. They are demons wearing the faces of the people they killed, like suits – or more appropriately, like shells." Beat. No laughter. Not even a giggle. Angel sighed, internally mourning the passing of puns as an art form "Vamps can be killed by stakes, fire, beheading and sunlight, they live for hundreds of years and all of them in the world are evil, except two. And while I _really_ don't wanna tell you guys what I'm going to say next, I'd rather get it over with _now_ than have to explain it later. And since you have all been pretty straightforward with me…the two that aren't evil – they got their souls back."

Here Angel paused, glancing at the four ninjas and the two humans from underneath his furrowed brow. Donatello seemed anxious and was staring at Angel like he'd grown a pair of horns or something. Leo's face screamed that he knew he should be catching onto something but hadn't figured out what yet. Mikey looked to be contemplating the hotness of vampire babes, along with Casey, whom April was thumping lightly on the forehead to snap him out of the reverie; Raph was the image of boredom, picking his teeth with his sai. The purple-masked turtle slowly backed out of the others' sights, narrowed his gaze thoughtfully, and shifted the grip on his weapon to a state closer to battle-ready. Donatello appeared to be debating whether or not the blunt end of his weapon would count as a stake if he shoved it hard enough through the vampire's chest.

_No time for second thoughts now – Don knows, or he's close to figuring it out. And I'm not dating any of them, so maybe they won't freak out as bad as Buffy and her gang. It could happen, right? Right…Even Fred ran. _Angel took a deep breath, held his hands out in front of his body in a sign of deference and non-violence, and took the plunge, speaking in a flat voice so quickly that he was difficult to understand.

"I was cursed by gypsies so I would be forced to live with what I'd done and try to atone for it by saving people and killing demons. I'm a vampire with a soul." He exhaled, looked up, and saw Raphael laughing and holding Leo back with one hand. Laughing?

"No shit, Sherlock!" Everyone, but mostly Donatello, stared, confused at how the berserker turtle had pegged this before they had. Angel could only imagine the look of shock that he bore himself as Raph explained.

"First of all, you _look_ like you ain't seen the sun in years. A little strange, since it's the middle 'a summer and you can't avoid it unless you live underground or sleep all day, neither of which is exactly normal if you're not a mutant. And you're not just pale; you're damn near – what's the word, Donnie? Translucent? Yeah. Plus, most people who get stuck riding bitch on my bike end up with their hearts racing like it's the apocalypse – I know, cause it always makes me laugh, and brother, I noticed real fast that you ain't got no pulse. With your little story there, I kinda put it all together. But I figure, hey – you saved my ass and haven't tried anything yet, and I bet even _you_ wouldn't be dumb enough to try somethin' now with four ninja turtles and a whackbag with a baseball bat, especially after you seen what I can do on the streets by myself." At this Raph's smile morphed from mischievous to menacing with such speed that Angel couldn't track the changes in muscle. "If I'd 'a thought anything else, you wouldn't have your head right now, buddy."

Oblivious to Raph's not-so-subtle threat, most likely out of habit, Mikey snapped out of his dream world and peered at Angel curiously. "Where are your fangs, dude? I wanna see 'em."

Angel shook his head vigorously. "No, no, no. No way. I only show my vamp face when I'm _really_ pissed off or in a hugely major fight. It's not a party trick."

"So, then, Angel, why are we to presume that you're telling us the truth and not just stringing us along for kicks? How can you prove this?" This question came from Don, ever the scientific mind, and Angel found himself surprised at the layer of threat under the previously soft-spoken turtle's voice. Still, he sighed and gave the apartment a sweeping glance, then pointed at the wall.

"Look in the mirror."

Don turned reluctantly to April's antique mirror – _it's from eighteenth century France, Don, I picked it up while hunting down rare French pagan literature for a client –_ and, much to his chagrin, failed to hide his surprise when he saw himself, his brothers, and his friends, all reflecting back the same look of shock, except Raph, who looked a little amused. No Angel. Despite himself, Don looked back and forth between the room and the mirror several times fast, just to make sure Angel wasn't hiding every time his head turned and just enough to give himself a headache. The last time he looked back, the vampire was right behind him, less than two inches away.

Only Mikey could find the word to describe what they were all feeling.

"Dude…."

A/N: Next update - why is Angel in New York City? Check in and see - same bat time and same bat channel!


	3. The Unholy Law Firm & A Mecca for Evil

_A/N: Thank you for the reviews and critiques. Sorry for the delay – midterms, sister's wedding, and weapons class in karate – it's been fun, but left little time for the writing. I've also slightly reworked Chapter 2, deciding that yes, the Angel and Don stuff could use some work, and hopefully it comes across as such. And while sarcasm is my strong point, I've attempted to delve further into the broodiness of Angel for this chapter._

_Disclaimer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all its characters belong to Mirage, Fred Wolf Films, 4Kids TV, New Line Cinema, Archie Comics, Imagi – I might have forgotten a few. The incredible Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy (grr-argh) own Buffy: The Vampire Slayer and Angel. Recognize anything else from TV, movies, or books (or any media form I've left out)? It ain't mine. The new Aqua Teen Hunger Force Zombie Ninja Pro-am for the PS2 will be mine in less than a week, but I won't be buying with the profits from this story, due entirely to them not existing._

_This is pretty much based on New Cartoon voices and characters, with the fourth movie worked in. And I've intentionally spelled our favorite nunchaku-wielding terrapin's name "Michaelangelo" because I noticed that's how they spelled in the original comics. In case anyone wonders._

_Oh, um, also – the rating is entirely due to language and violence (later) and is M to be safe. No slash or "romance"._

**Chapter 3: The Unholy Law Firm & A Mecca for Evil**

Now seated in a kitchen chair, Donnie raised an eye-ridge at the self-professed vampire, clearly expressing his remaining doubts at everything he'd just heard. "So, if I'm to believe what you're telling us, vampires are supernatural demons inhabiting the bodies of the humans they kill and _**not**_ the result of a virus or blood mutation?"

Angel rolled his eyes. "Don – or Scully – can I call you Scully? Because you kinda seem like a Scully to me. I hate to bring down your world of scientific absolution, but yes, demons _do_ exist, monsters _can_ live under your bed and in your closet, things _do _go bump in the night, and vampires _are_ the undead. So you can forget about your little Wesley Snipes vision of the underworld and –"

"Kate Beckinsale was totally HOT in _Underworld_, dude!" Mikey rejoined the group and the conversation, once again paying little attention to either. He did, however, look a little surprised when Angel strode up to him and began examining his shell very closely.

"Um, dude – is there a spider on my shell or something? What are you doing? You're not gonna, like, bite me or something, are ya? I wouldn't taste very good. I live in the sewers. And, uh, it's hot outside and I'm probably sweaty…" Michaelangelo fidgeted a little bit while he rambled nervously, the cheese on his temporarily forgotten pizza melting down his fingers. After a few seconds, Angel looked at him, scowling.

"You really don't have an off switch, do you?"

That earned him a good laugh from Casey, Raph, and Donnie, and even Leo cracked the tiniest bit of a smile. Mikey wracked his brain for a good comeback, but failing, he stuck his tongue out at Angel and shoved his pizza slice in his mouth, pouting. Angel sighed, turning back to Don, his atmosphere of broodiness and severity completely dissipated by the youngest of the turtles. "Where was I, again?"

Donatello tapped his temple lightly with his _bo_, thinking. "I believe you were telling me how science has nothing to do with this. And something about me Scullying your monologue."

Angel stared up at the ceiling, gesturing slightly to himself as he ran through his script under his breath. "Demons, under the bed, undead, Wesley Snipes – okay, right. So anyway, they – the vampires – suck your blood and they kill you or turn you into one of them. I used to hunt them on my own, but now I run a law firm based out of L.A. that investigates, kills, and keeps files on all these zombies, ghosts, demons, dragons, evil puppets, tap-dancing demons of combustion and things of that nature – we're called Wolfram & Hart."

Donnie looked pensive. "I think I've heard of them – they have clients here in New York. Some of the baddest gangsters in town, actually. And you run that place?"

Angel frowned, disappointed, but by now not _really _surprised at Donatello's knowledge. "Well, I kind of…took it over a couple of years ago. I really don't have much to do with the actually _law firm_ part. I just use their resources to keep fighting the good fight. Before me they were… well, let's just say I had to give a hardy round of lay-offs. They were **evil**."

With absolutely no regard to the turn the discussion had taken, Mikey shoved his hand up, very much the picture of an elementary school student. Except green. With a shell… and three fingers. "Ooh, ooh! What if the vampires make _me_ a vampire! What happens then? Do I get to meet Kate Beckinsale?" Angel looked at Mikey in pure shock, noticing that the other three turtles simply rolled their eyes. And Raph gave him good thwack on the forehead.

"No, you don't get to meet Kate Beckinsale! And who ever heard of a mutant ninja turtle _vampire_? The only reason the vamps in the alley even thought about turning Raphael was because they thought he was a kappa – a Japanese _demon_. Vampire turtles – that's _beyond_ lame." At this point Donatello interrupted and pointed out that "Family Guy" was on, causing Michaelangelo to jump off into the world of animated sitcoms. "Thanks, Don – how do you guys put up with that much energy all the time?"

The techno-turtle grimaced and put his hands out, palms up, as a sign of frustration. "Force of habit, I suppose. Now, assuming you're telling the truth, what are _you_, a self-appointed defender of peace, justice, and the American way, and CEO of the law firm of doom, doing _here_, in New York City? I mean, we've had problems with gangs and ninja clans before, but if vampires have been roaming around they've stayed under our radar. I would think we'd have run into them before."

Angel opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the first words from Leonardo since Raph's introductions. "It doesn't matter why. It's not our fight." He looked Angel straight in the eye, the set of his jaw daring the older man to challenge him. "I'm sure Angel can handle this problem just fine on his own – I mean, you said vampires are practically immortal. So, you're God-knows-how-old – _surely_ you don't need the aid of four teenagers and two humans?"

"Not our fight? Leo, these guys tried to kill me! That's reason enough for me." Raph interrupted, stomping over to poke his older brother in the chest. "I think you're just too fucking scared."

Leonardo looked anything but scared as he edged further into his aggressive brother's personal space – definitely further than Raphael preferred or had intended. "Oooo, it's reason enough for the turtle who goes out looking for a fight every night – the same one that decided to play Batman as soon as I wasn't here to keep him in line. That should convince me! Guess what, Angel – I changed my mind because Mr. Nightwatcher here thinks it's a good idea. What the shell was I thinking?" Leo and Raph were quite literally in each other's faces right now, and it was just a matter of time before it came to blows. Angel glanced over at the rest of the audience, mildly surprised to discover Mikey, Don and Casey placing bets on who would win.

"I call Leo, 'cuz he's still mondo pissed off about the rooftop fight and the whole vigilante thing."

"No, way, Mikey – totally Raph again. Leo doesn't fight as good when he'd mad, and Raphie-boy is still adrenaline rushin' from earlier."

"Doesn't fight _as well_, Casey, and I think you're both wrong. I call stalemate this time due to interference of the redheaded female variety. Pass me the pork rinds, will ya?" Don took the bag from Casey, and as a second thought, looked Angel's way. "Don't worry – they do this _**all**_ the time. It's the age-old conflict – the hotheaded rebel versus the straightedge leader."

Angel nodded in agreement, thinking of all his verbal altercations with Spike and which one of them qualified as the hothead –

"Wait, Raph is the Nightwatcher? Some of our recruiters in L.A. were keeping tabs on that guy as a possible player." Angel's eyes went a little bit wider, almost unnoticeably, viewing the red-masked turtle in a new light. "When he vanished, my guys figured he'd jumped dimensions or been taken out, and they put the file on hold."

A proud smirk crept ever-so-slowly across the offending turtle's face. "Your little unholy law firm has a file on _**moi**_?"

Angel nodded while simultaneously whipping out his nifty iPhone, courtesy of his expense account, and tapped into the computer database located on the opposite coast. "See, check it out."

Raph peered over Angel's shoulder, grinning widely now, and after a minute or so, leaned back onto the couch in an extremely self-satisfied manner. "Bitchin'."

"No, no, _**no**_ – it is **not** 'bitchin', Raph – it's the opposite of bitchin'. You've put us on the radar of, apparently, one of the largest supernatural organizations in the world and you think it's bitchin'? Let me see that thing." Leo grabbed the PDA from Angel swiftly, as only a ninja can, and promptly lost it to April, who rebuked him with a slight smack on the hand.

"Leo, give me that before you break it, ya luddite; I can hook this thing up to the LCD monitor and everyone can read it. Gimme just a sec to find the right cable, and – voilà!" Three turtles, two humans and vampire crowded around April's monitor, completely engrossed in the apparent mythos of their friend and brother. Raph stayed settled on the couch, and would've never admitted it, but watched each set of eyes, concerned of the reactions the article would receive.

_The Nightwatcher: New York City-based vigilante. Physically powerful, possesses martial arts skills unmatched by most mortal players; prefers the use of brute strength and brawling over the aforementioned skills. Possesses impressive acrobatic skills. Weapon-stock appears Japanese; when used, stealth techniques appear similar to those employed in ninjitsu. Due to attack patterns, the Nightwatcher most likely utilizes a police scanner to locate criminals and does not appear to have any supernatural capabilities. Heavily armored and travels via large motorcycle. Appears to have three fingers on each hand. Speaks with a heavy accent, most likely of Brooklyn origin, or possibly Queens: final determination will be asserted once file information has been examined by a staff linguist. Favors sarcastic banter, usually clever. Has the appearance of an oversized metal terrapin. Role yet to be determined._

"Ha! See, I was right – you did look like a big metal turtle." Casey jabbed his finger in the air at his best friend and grinned. "Definitely bitchin'."

"Pretty cool, Raph! I wanna file!" Mikey whined the latest request at Angel, pouting in an exaggerated manner when the vampire shook his head.

Even Don looked impressed, but not for the same reasons. "How did they figure all this out? I mean, their research department must be _incredible_!" He opened his mouth to continue gushing, revealing the technogeek within, but was cut off by his oldest brother.

"Well, I don't like it. They know _too_ much, Raph! Your accent, your skills, your sarcasm – they even figured out that you're a ninja. Master Splinter is _not_ going to be happy about this!" Leonardo whirled away from the monitor to face Raph, obviously furious. Raphael swatted his hand through the air, dismissing Leo's worries as paranoia.

"Aw, Leo – you're just steamed that these suits in LA and gakface over there figured out it was me before you did – helmet and all. Give it a rest. I wanna hear what Angel's got to say before we go deciding about whose fight it is and all that. And if Master Splinter finds out about _my_ file, he also finds out about _your_ hentai stash at the lair. Oh, _yes_, I know."

Leo's face had the appearance of one who was furiously flushed with embarrassment at the open mention of his vices, but the color was impossible to see under the olive skin. Porn-threatening was serious business. Brothers didn't play that card unless something big was at stake. The blue-masked turtle held his fists behind his shell, set his jaw again and stared at the ceiling.

Angel looked from brother to brother. Well, that answered the Playboy Channel question.

"Okay, then – moving on." The vampire dropped into a nearby chair and quickly changed the subject; he was glad for the break in lecture from Leonardo but suddenly felt awkward and uncomfortable with the current train of thought. "Don's right about the vampires laying low in NYC – while there are huge amounts of people, there's no hellmouth – no supernatural enhancements of their powers and no evil center to draw them here. And to be honest, with all the gang wars, violence, and weird stuff that goes on in this city – most vampires just keep clear and stick to cities that accommodate them, like Los Angeles, London, Mexico City, Paris – you get the idea. The few that are in the city usually just pass through, or they keep their kills low on the public radar – prostitutes, runaways, the homeless. But recently, something's been drawing vampires and other demons here. I've managed to track most of them so far, but the general feeling from our psychics in L.A. is that a large surge in the demonic population is coming this way, and it's coming pretty damn soon."

Raph peered at his new friend from under his mask. "When you say large, how big we talkin' here? Like, 50? 100?" Angel shifted his gaze and his weight in the chair, and Raphael's eyes got a little wider. "More than that? Holy fucking Christ…" The turtle ran his hand down his face. "And how soon is soon? Something tells me we ain't gonna time to evacuate the whole city." Subconsciously, Raph put his hands on the hilts of his sais, ready for a fight.

Angel stood and walked to the window, propping one arm high and looking out at the city below. "Your brother's right, Raphael. I can't ask you guys to help me with this. It's way too big." He whirled around, cutting the teenager off before he could start his protest. "We're talking thousands. The city will be overrun if I don't find a way to stop it in the next week."

"Stop what? I mean, why now? Why are all these… _things_ headed to the Big Apple now?" Donatello drummed his fingers on the grip of his staff, a million possibilities running through his brain. "Does it have anything to do with the vortex that opened up here recently?"

Angel glanced over, slightly taken aback. "You guys know about that?"

"Know about it? Man, we shut that fucker down but _**good**_!" Casey emphasized his proclamation by high-fiving Michaelangelo, who nodded his agreement.

"Yeah, dude, we sent those monsters and stone army guys back to wherever they came from, like 3000 years ago or something whacked like that! And then, the main general man, Max Winters – he totally turned into dust and got in my nose and my mouth and it was so _**gross**_, dude –"

Angel put a hand up to stop the ramble. "Yeah, yeah – you guys are the ones that stopped the vortex? For some reason, we didn't even find out about it until it was too late – my guys figured the Slayers must've – never mind. Geez." He turned back to the window, running his hand through his hair. "So you guys aren't as inexperienced in matters of the supernatural as I thought."

"Man, we've seen all kinds of shit that would blow your mind. Okay, well, maybe not _yours_, but most people's. Crazy ninja magic, weird alien technology, samurai bunnies from other dimensions – our lives ain't exactly normal here." Raph finally managed to interject his two cents, and then turned pointedly to Leonardo. "And you, Fearless – still think it ain't our fight? This city gets taken over by monsters – _again_ – and what do you think happens to our friends? Not just Casey and April, think about Tyler, Keno, Angel and Mrs. Morrison! And all the innocent people out there! You just gonna let 'em get mauled, or eaten, or worse? And I get the feeling, based on Cap'n Sunshine here's attitude, that some of these bastards on the way here won't find _us_ particularly threatening. 'Specially not in _huge numbers_ –"

"Yeah, some of 'em would find you pretty tasty." Angel looked up to six shocked faces. Shifting his weight and folding his arms over his chest, he hastily defended, "Well, they would. I think. You know, Polgara demons eat just about anything." No response. He started fidgeting a little, tapping his fingers on his bicep. "And Haxil demons are huge. So. You were saying, Raph?"

Raphael stood there for a second, his mouth slightly open, before shaking his head and continuing. "I – so, yeah… I don't really give a rat's ass whether or not Leo gives the okay. I can help, so you're stuck with me. We sure as fuck didn't save this burg from Shredder and some 3000-year-old pissants just to let it go hell _**literally**_. No way, no how." Raph emphatically belted the sai he'd begun twirling mid-rant and pounded one fist into his other open palm, then crossed his arms and glared at the rest of the group.

"Where Raph goes, me, my baseball bat and my hockey stick go." Casey shrugged nonchalantly and turned his attention back to his beer. April stood next to him, showing her support by nodding slightly and resting her hand on his arm.

"Definitely, dude. I mean, c'mon – we tangled with Bigfoot!" Mikey chimed in his commitment to the cause; whether out of a sense of duty or the desire to see vampire babes, Angel couldn't tell.

Donatello sighed, tapping his bo into his free hand with some apprehension. Looking back and forth between the resolute leader and the resident hot-head, he looked down and made his decision. "Count me in. I'd never forgive myself if people died and we could've prevented it."

"Please – make me out to be the bad guy here!" Leo threw his hands in the air, obviously frustrated. "I don't want to see innocent people injured or killed anymore than the rest of you. But I know there's more to this story that what we've been told so far, or Angel would be jumping with glee with all this free labor." He looked over at the vampire sulking by the window. "Okay, not with glee, but – something not so emo."

Angel pushed off the wall, clenching and unclenching his fists. "I'm not emo. I'm too old to be emo. And yeah, there's more. You guys just didn't let me get there yet." He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding – a habit that had been programmed into his body's muscles more than 200 years ago and refused to be forgotten. "Our psychics aren't 100 sure, since the vortex was technically a dimensional portal and they mostly work out of this reality, but here's what we've got: someone incredibly powerful is going to attempt to tap into the portal's residual energy and use it to bring something incredibly awful into _our_ world from another one."

"Geez, how many other dimensions are there, man?" Mikey rubbed his forehead in confusion.

Shrugging, Angel replied, "I don't know – a lot. Hell dimensions, dimensions that look a lot like ours, ones with nothing but shrimp – you name it."

"Wouldn't an all-shrimp dimension _**be**_ a hell dimension?" April wrinkled her nose at the thought of never-ending, creepy-crawly shellfish. "And are they mini-shrimp, or jumbo-shrimp, or people-sized –" She cut herself off, looking sheepish. "Sorry. I don't like shrimp."

"It's okay. It's kind of a disturbing thought." Angel began a slow pacing in front of the window. "There's an old cemetery near the Winters building. I figured I'd start my investigation there. Cemeteries are pretty much the universal starting point for evildoers, but I haven't had a chance to do much research on the area. I've been winging it since I heard about the whole thing. My…staff… has taken some losses recently; that has me at a disadvantage." _Like Fred, Wesley, Gunn and Cordy were just staff. _His breath hitched a little in his chest. _Lorne would've been good for morale. And even Spike… well, he was at least worth his weight in a fight. This would've been five million times easier with their help. And not being on speaking terms with the Buffy for more than a year now…_ He looked up suddenly, realizing he'd zoned out for a while, and just as suddenly turned his head to blink back the tears he felt pressuring his eyes. This wouldn't do at all – big, broody vamps don't cry. Especially not in front of ninjas.

"I'm sorry – for whatever happened to them." Leonardo sounded genuine, but hesitated slightly before continuing. "I don't know how much help we'll be, but… well, in Raph's words, you're stuck with us." The vampire turned, composure regained, and cocked an eyebrow. Leo gave a small smile. "I'm a good enough leader to listen to my group and change my mind when I need to. And it would seem… the situation dictates that I need to."

Angel took in the crowd in front of him – a warped reflection of the ghosts of his family. Humanity didn't even know they existed, and yet here they were – willing to put themselves on the line to keep the city they called home safe. For the first time since he'd gotten the memo from the Psychic Prevention Division, he felt some of the weight come off his shoulders, and he stood a little straighter. Maybe, just maybe, they could do this.

_To the Angel-mobile, away! To be continued… _

_A/N: for those of you who don't get the Scully reference, she's the skeptical agent on "The X-Files."_


End file.
